"Republicans smelled a political dawn..." Tenth Anniversary: Waltz or Schmaltz?

On September 3, 2008, searching, many supposed, for a VP nominee with experience to counter a perceived lack of that quality in Democratic candidate Obama, only not still another old white male, the GOP bypassed Tim Pawlenty, Mitt Romney, Charlie Crist, Bobby Jindal and Joe Lieberman to nominate Sarah Palin as political maverick John McCain's running mate.

Republicans sniffed a political dawn. Key
to winning? An off'ring who'd offset their honky.
The Pachyderm longed for a candidate wonky:
"No green nominee'll help John hobble the Donkey."
Instead, tone-deaf pols pounded gongs in the wrong key:
the twee GOP pinned the Palin on Don Qui.

"I've accessed air springs and adjustables..." My Big Brass Bed Back Home: A Nonsense Alphabet in Rhyme

     I’ve accessed 
air springs 'n' adjustables, berths, 
bunk beds, box springs, too;
     blacked out in 
bassinets, chaise longues, cots, cradles, 
Chesterfields (a few).
     I’ve dozed on 
davenports, divans, duvets, on 
daybeds cased in chrome.
     And yet the 
best I’ve ever slept in was that 
big brass bed back home. 

     I’ve taken 
ease on ebeds, eastern kings, fulls, 
futons, four four posters;
     gouched on 
gurneys, The Great Bed of Ware (who 
claims they’ve done be boasters);
     hung in 
hot racks, hammocks, hideaways – on 
hassocks filled with foam.
     And yet the 
best I’ve ever slept in was that 
big brass bed back home.  

     I’ve hibed in 
infant cribs, inflatables (I 
jumped, once, on a junior);
     knelt on 
kinderbeds, kips, Kang bed-stoves (than 
which no beds be loonier).
     Late I’ve 
lounged on lecti geniales 
(once the rage in Rome).
     And yet the 
best I’ve ever slept in was that 
big brass bed back home. 

     I’ve made my 
Murphys, mooned on manjaas, napped in 
nests 'n' narcolits;
     Pooped out 
on orthopeds 'n' ottomans…and 
pallets (they’re the pits!).
     I’ve plopped on 
platforms, palanquins 'n' pillows 
in the Astrodome.
     And yet the 
best I’ve ever slept in was that 
big brass bed back home.

     Quiesced on 
queens (with quilts), on roll-aways, on 
retros, rope-rung'd racks;
     sawn wood on 
sofas, stretched on Sertas, Sealys…
snoozed in sleeping sacks;
     turned in on 
Therma-Rests, twins, upper berths, up-
holst’r’ds stuff'd with brome!
     And yet the 
best I’ve ever slept in was that 
big brass bed back home.  

     I’ve valued 
Vi-Springs 'n' vibrating beds (I 
melt ‘neath Magic Fingers);
     waked on 
water beds 'n' Weevacs (déjà 
vu of two still lingers).
     X, Y, 
Z? In none have time I done, though
'round the globe I’ve roamed.
     And yet the 
best I’ve ever slept in was that
big brass bed back home.

"As I went driving toward St. Ives..." A Roud Riddle Revisited, Revamped and Rerhymed

The Roud Folk Song Index number for the abbreviated version of the riddle appearing below is 19,772, suggesting that this expanded version ought perhaps to be numbered 19,772.1. Please amend your personal Roud list accordingly. As regards the numerical problem the riddle poses, recall that 'spouse' may refer to an individual of either sex.  

As I went driving toward St. Ives
(a cleric there of crimes me shrives), 
I spied a guy with seven wives
and ponder'd what a Hausfrau drives:

each “better half” held seven hives,
each hive divided -- using knives,
each bride had sliced ‘em into fives --
breach'd bees sent fleeing for their lives,

each executing seven dives
(thus spook’d, an insect stoutly strives:
'tis how a threaten’d hive survives
and, through such parlous stages, thrives),

each dive a writhe of seven jives,
each libre from confining gyves.
Enumerating gyves and jives 
and dives and lives and hives in fives 

and knives and drives (though zero glaives) 
plus just one guy but seven wives,
each spouse a reek of leeks and chives:
how many travel'd toward St. Ives? 


An approach to the solution of the riddle: 
49 hives (seven held by each of seven wives), each divided into five parts, yields 245 fractional hives. If each fraction holds, say, seven bees and each bee performs seven dives, each dive consisting of seven jives, there are produced 343 jives. 343 jives performed in each of 245 fractional hives yields 84,035 total jives -- all without gyves, not to mention glaives. Adding all the wives, hives, dives and jives to the single guy referenced results in 84,036 total elements -- though, of course, none of them are on their way toward St. Ives. 

Profiles on Textiles: Men of the Cloth: Preliminary Sketches for a Work in Progress

"As you haul coals to Newcastle..." The Zweisodes of Pippindar: A Nonsense Alphabet in Rhyme

A 

As you haul coals to Newcastle, 
might you, por moi, 
amass aardvarks to sell 
in Abel-Beth-Maacah? * 

    * Biblical sources mention a wise woman who dwelt there but make none of a live-animal market. 

B 

Be he t(hr)ower of babble? 
Blame (sob!) my bum habit, 
my culpa! But Barrymore's bro’s 
been a babbit!”

C 

Encore, Jorge Luis Borges! 
Cor de l'Argentine eez Jor: Heez 
cris de coeur enhances stories 
cach'd een Chechen Cacci'tores! 

D/E 

When AM added Daddy-O,* 
deft DJ, to my rahd-i-o, 
they proved: extending feelers 
yields emcees instead of spielers.
        * Chicago radio personality Holmes Daylie (1920-?) 

F 

Affairs o' the fart 
felt in far-off terrains
fetch foul redolence – and 
faintly visible stains.

G 

Giggl’ing, one Googles, 
“three gaggles o' geese,” 
crying, "Larry* and Sergey*: 
please leave me in peace!"
      * Larry Page and Sergey Brin, founders of Google 

H 

‘High-hat,’ ‘high-hand,’ ‘high-
horse,’ ‘high holy days...’ 
'high-'…HAH! (A case of 
“damn'd with tainted ‘frase’”)

I 

Invoking my μους-, I 
(no Greek) sue for news: 
“Ανδρα μαλαπολλ' εννεπα μοι…” 
It's Achilles? Nope! Showies- 
and-tellies insist Hellene 
Ilii* (Helen of Troy).
        * Genitive singular of 'Ilium.' 

J 

My menage during haj during 
Raj (just for fun) 
stanched my stutter. Of "...jej-jej...jej-
june…" all heard none.

K 

let's kill the tax on 
Nico’s Delft or Spode. 
Just kick Nic’s knickknacks' taxes 
down the road.

L 

Aboard the good ship Lollypop, all’s good. 
(Such sacch'rin smarm's the stuff of songs of Shirl's.*) 
Let's, suckers, cease! Let's stop all Sucker Suck-Ins! 
Such sucking leaves obese, balloon-like girls.
     * Shirley Temple

M/N 

Your pharaoh dies, befriends my goat -- 
the pair grows fairly chummy. 
Then Nurse and Mommy make a film: 
"The Nanny Meeps The Mummy."

O 

The Fool shall not 
for Mongoose vouch, 
but Cobra choose? 
That's odd. that's...OUCH!

P 

Pollute Pa's porridge?
Prime Pop's pot? 
Please stop! Put in plu- 
'pepper'...not! 

Q: Go west? Not if you know what's m-m-m, m-m-m, good for you. 

Quick! Go east on that 
Qarghaliq-Qaraqum Trail!* 
Get fair Bar-B-Q'd Coq...
and good Bar-B-Q'd Quail.
     * The direction travelled (ENE, roughly) between two Chinese cuisine hotspots.

R 

I.S.O. route 
or ring road warrior? 
Best request 
the Brothers Boyer!* 
        * S. James, 9, and A. Zane, 7 1/2 (ages, not jackboot sizes)

S 

All at sea in Seas Sargasso, 
sailors may request a lasso. 
Sassafras's gas shall pass, 
but schlusselfiedels?* "Such a ass!" **
       * Kinds of hurdy-gurdy     **Pace, Mr. Dickens.

T 

Kitt's kit? That pattern’s 
known as tattersall. 
But I’ve left torn 
these knit togs -- tatters, all.

U: 'Uacuus'? Ablative singular for something, surely. 

I'd figured I'd bagged me 
a gnu, up until 
I'd looked under the fur 
and found you, Uncle Phil!

V 

"Vav-vav-...vav...a vav-...va-v-...vavoom!" 
We hear this stutter! But from whom? 
It’s Dr. D-cup, I presume -- 
she of the fabulous ba-zoom.

W: Perhaps the window washer did it. 

Who? 'Twas Woodrow Wilson's widow. 

Where? Near Wicklow West. What? Dead.

When? The clues suggested Wednesday. 
Whew! (We won't ask, "Why?") How? Bled. 

X 

Mix xanthoma with rosacea: 
the resulting skin disease 
is what -- when six xiphopagi repaint 
the xerox room -- one sees.

Y 

To marry your mother 
so many years back? 
My mistake (don't talk back!): 
blame my yackety yak!

Z 

They sang "Zizzi-zizzi-...!" yesterday 
and "...boom-boom-aay!" today. 
What shall zyzzogetons* sing tomorrow? 
None but they can say.
        * The very last word -- in South American leaf hoppers and in my pocket dictionary.

"All starts in a beginner space..." Space Flight or Go In and Out the Universe: Hommage a SciFri's Ira Flatow

All starts in a beginner space, a single, not a twinner space, 

whiz-physicists call inner space -- as volumes go, a thinner space --
where bosons swirl: a spinner space (and, all in all, a winner space) 
which swells from just a sprouter space into a wider, stouter space -- 
as lightscapes go, a louder space and, for my dough, a prouder space --
wry scientists call outer space, which leaves scant room for doubter space.

"Neither Alvins named Ailey nor Babas call'd Ali..." The Tin Pan Alleyphabet: A Nonsense ABC in Rhyme

Neither Alvins named Ailey nor Babas call’d Ali
got collar’d at "Occupy Gasoline Alley."

No -kissangel, Bally-; no Rumpole de Bailey. 
No Women's Wear Daily; no raised dots :(too Brailley).
No "Serpent! From hence shalt thou crawl on thy belly."
No sesame bialy, no Sam's "Wooly Bully,"
no Elliot, Billy, no brews news "-corn, Barley-." 
(That brief Melvin Belli’s okay -- but just barely).
Bann'd: Brahmins from Bollywood bruising Brad's brolly 
while filming Brad brawling in ballrooms on Bali.

Caught: Lassie, a Collie, cavorting in ceilidh 
while wildcatting coke for a cartel called Cali.

Deploy’d at Da's Deli, in drag: "Hello, Dolly,"
one debuting daughters of Salvador Dali.

Elle's Christmas equale, penn’d especiale,
in Ely was pann’d as "a tad Emmental-y."

Fat, fatuous Frawley erected a folly
wherein he philander'd – folks felt fairly freely --
until he f**k'd Fifi, one fleet femme fatale.

"Game goalie -- no ghoul, he -- vaults, gaily, a gully..."
or so reads this galley proof. (What? A spoof? Golly!)

His comet, called Halley, flies frequent as hail; he*
just knells his noëls hailing IVs and Holly. 
Her Berryness (Hallé), our Holy of Holies,
defiled on her Harley. (Heard howl'd: "-leuia! Halle-.")

Allama Iqbal: he ingests his iced lolly
then misinflects 'Italy' (terms it 'I-tal-y').

Joined: Fisher (Joely) with wa-a-a-ay too much jelly.
She (formerly scrawny) grows brawny -- though jolly.

Kiss one: [] goddess Kali; [] Kristyna Kashvili;
[] the Senate's "-son, Hutchi-" aka Kay Bailey.

La Langtry's a Lily and Eli's a Lily
and Allen and Tomlin -- each lovely, both Lilys.
But Lorelei Lee, though not lowly, 'sno Lily,
and buds just won't bud for Jean-Baptiste de Lully.

Mrs. Bloom's christen'd Molly, Ms. Meg's a Mulally,
whilst Earhart's called 'Meeley' -- or 'Millie' (or 'Mellie').

Nell Bly is dressed nattily, as is Naphtali.
Undressed: Censorinus (de die Natali).*
     * Infamous, of course, for composing in his 'birthday suit.' 

One dragon called Ollie. One Taitz known as Orly:
once tethered together, our true 'two and only.'

Pass the pralines to Pauly! Punt pretzels to Pele!
But, soft! Here's a U-turn: some cracker wants Polly!

What sort (...qualis, quali...) be Great-uncle Quigley
to level at Neville his poisonous quill, eh?

"Retreat? Never! Rally!" rants Wall Street cop Raleigh.
"Those kids were unruly!" (Still...leper spray? Really?)

See Sally. Run, Sally! Run, silly Svengali!
(They once jogged with others, but now they sprint soli.)

This thirteenth timbale near trebles our tally.
Let's meet in St. Louis (clang-clang goes our trolley).

Ulysses (called Uly) blows hot ukulele.
His riffs and routines are esteemed -- not unduly.

Vern heard ‘cross the valley a thunderous volley:
applause from Volturno but boos from Vercelli.

Where's Wonka-ther-Willy? Where's Monte-ther-Woolley?
Where's Cleaver-ther-Wally? Died -- doin'-the'r-Wheelie.* 
     * A quartet of hommages a Edward Bear aka Winnie-ther-Pooh.

X fields 'Xiphoidally; Y yields '"Yardboid"ally.'*
Z? 'Tis for 'Zigmund' (though not Zigmundfreudally).
     * In the manner (though not in the Kansas City accent) of saxophonist Charlie Parker 

A Little Night Porter or Was It Just One of Those Things? Abecedarially Arranged Arrays of Alternative A Sections in Rhyme

(Ignoring all but the opening eight bars of Cole Porter's AABA song form "Just One of Those Things," shift moods from indicative to interrogative. Then ask the musical question -- indeed, ask a whole slough of 'em -- using any or all of a baker's dozen of the alternate A sections arrayed below.) 

(A/B)    Was it 
just one of those things?
Just one of those almond rings?
One "boo-boo”’d blues of baritone Bing's?*
just one of those things? 
     * Crooner Crosby

(C/D)    Was it 
just one of those things?
Just one of those static clings? 
One of Sinatra’s "ring-a-ding-ding"s? 
Just one of those things?

(E/F)    Was it 
just one of those things?
Just one of Stowe's evenings,*
One of those fibs that frickin' Drumpf flings?
Just some of those things.
    * Moonlight in Vermont

(G/H)   Was it 
just some of those things? 
Just one of Joe's* GOP swings? 
One of those hankies "Hawkins Falls"** wrings? 
Just one of those things. 
      * The Plumber Guy  
      ** The vintage TV soap opera

(I/J)    Was it
just some of those things?
Just one I like -- Gipsy Kings --
one who froze juleps 'n' Singapore Slings: 
"Jus' summa doze t'ings"?

(K/L)    Was it 
just one of those things? 
Just one which Kabibble (Ish) swings?*
One of those lays lauding lemonade springs?**
Just one of those things? 
      * Ish Kabbible was a cornet player with Kay Kyser's band 
      ** The Big Rock Candy Mountain

(M/N)   Was it 
just some of those things?
Just one of Mars’s merciless Mings? 
One of those neon nights of Beijing's? 
Just one of those things? 

(O/P)   Was it 
just one of those things?
Just one of O's (Oprah's) blings? 
One of Paterno's pornography rings? 
Just one of those things?

(Q/R)     Was it 
just one of those things? 
Just one of those queer-quizzin' stings?*
One of those riffs -- "It don't mean a thing"s?** 
Just one of those things? 
       * The Stonewall Inn  
      ** Duke Ellington

(S/T)    Was it 
just one of those things? 
Just one of those songs Sting sings? 
One of those tangs like Buffalo wings? 
Just some of those things?

(U/V)   Was it
just one of those things?
Just uno...dos...underlings?
One of those peerless portrayals of Ving's?**
Just one of those things? 
      ** Cf Ving Rhames.

(W/X)   Was it 
just one of those things?
Just one of those warm'd wax'd wings?*
One of those Xs censorship brings? 
Just one of those things? 
      * The fatal flight of Icarus.

(Y/Z)     Was it
just one of those things?
just one of Ma's (Yoyo's) strings? 
One of those songs with "Zing...zizzy...zing..."s?*
Just oneof those things? 
      * "Italian Street Song" from Naughty Marietta.

     Yes, it was great fun...but was it 
just one of those things?